


Courtney Blews

by Coriander (JayTylerA)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hiatus era, MTF character, Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Oral Sex, Rimming, Trans Female Character, Trans Female Patrick Stump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTylerA/pseuds/Coriander
Summary: The first time Pete saw Patrick wearing a dress, back in 2002, well before Take This To Your Grave hit, he thought nothing of it. Maybe a joke, or a prank, or an experiment. The second time, he thought maybe Patrick had a crossdressing kink or something. He even notices, later in bed, that Patrick had shaved his legs.And, really, Pete should have seen it coming, when Patri...when...Pat...when he...when she...When Courtney showed up at his door, all long, bleached-blonde hair, small waist, full breasts, wide hips, and sunshine smiles. At first, he wondered who this chick was and how she had found him, and then she said, “Hi, Pete. You’ve been expecting me, Pete? It’s...it’s Patrick. Sort of. Courtney, now. Courtney Allie Stump.” And he knew, that voice, that voice he’d been having wet dreams about since the moment he heard it, only now higher and softer and female and fuck, it wasn’t happier than he’d ever heard it before. “Trick...”“No, Courtney,”





	1. Prologue: She

**Author's Note:**

> So, in this fic, Patrick is transgender, male to female, meaning she was assigned male at birth, but identifies as female. She is pre-operative, or has not had sexual reassignment surgery and still has a penis. Her name in this is Courtney. This is a work of fiction, please treat it as such. DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fall Out Boy or any of its affiliates.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could he have been so stupid? How? Pete honestly amazed himself with his stupidity sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by “She” by Green Day, Which you should totally go listen to.

     Pete should have known. He really should have seen all the signs. Patrick’s soft voice and soft mannerisms. The few occasions he grew his hair out before his mom griped that it was too long and he sheared it off again. Pete’s makeup disappearing and reappearing in Patrick’s bags. The subtle femininty, from clear mascara to waxed brows to the way he crossed his legs at the knee instead of the ankle to the way he wore layers to hide his soft-but-still-masculine frame.

     Pete remembered finding Patrick in a dress once. Patrick was just shy of eighteen, Pete was twenty-two. Patrick’s face was all dolled up, smokey black eye makeup and glossy pink lips and softly rouged cheeks better than anything Pete could hope to do with his Dollar Tree eyeliner and eyeshadow. His lip quivered when Pete found him, like he might cry. “Don’t say anything about this,” he said, and Pete had enough common courtesy to oblige him. 

    It happened again, Pete walking in on Patrick in a little black dress and a face full of makeup. Patrick wasn’t scared this time, nineteen and full of hormones and anger and defiance. “I look good,” he’d said, and fuck, Pete couldn’t help but agree with him, fucking him on the shitty motel mattress, dress rudely rucked up around Patrick’s thick waist, Pete’s hands on Patrick’s smooth-shaved legs, Patrick’s mascara running down his face and staining the pillowcase. Patrick moaned high-pitched and girly, smacking Pete’s hands away any time he tried to touch the pretty cock laying against Patrick’s soft belly, begging him not to touch. 

     Pete, so stupid, he realized now, thought nothing of it.

     The time after that, Patrick had been twenty-one, all soft, chubby curves and full hips and big, bright eyes and a baby-pink nightgown, just days after they lost the Grammy, and he’d ridden Pete so hard his dick hurt for three days after. “Pussywhipped,” Patrick joked, but the same thing happened, every time Pete tried to jerk Patrick off, his hands had been smacked away. Patrick wore kohl around his eyes that night, and soft gloss on his lips. He’d looked so beautiful.

     The last time he’d seen Patrick in his dress, it was just after he’d shaved off his sideburns for the first time, when Patrick was at his chubbiest, his curviest, when Pete wore the most makeup. A simple red number, short, tight, lacy. Pete had ripped it off of him and fucked him until the sun came up and they both passed out. He knew better than to try to jerk Patrick off. Patrick fell asleep before Pete did, and in the dull light streaming through the curtain window, Pete thought he’d never looked more beautiful. That morning, he threw up because he was sick of himself because he’d cheated on Ashlee, and Patrick hadn’t even tried to seduce him, and then he called Ashlee and told her and they started talking about divorce.

     Patrick suggested the band take a break the next day.

     When he got the email, along with Joe and Andy, he thought of when he first met Patrick, all gentle curves and soft chub and ginger hair and knee socks and argyle, and he’d said out loud, “Oh isn’t  _he_ lovely?” and Patrick blushed and stammered and sounded like a blushing little schoolgirl. 

     It was only a month or two into the hiatus, when Pete was still incredibly unstable and relied on pills (prescription and illegal) more than he liked to admit. He read it four or five or seventeen times before it really set in. 

      _Dear Pete, Andy, Joe, and Whoever else I decide to send this to:_

_Well, I guess it’s official. We’re going to have a Fall Out Girl. It’s kind of hard to say, but I’ve known for years how I felt, how I feel, about myself and my body and my gender. It evens to complicated in my head, but so simple at the same time. My hands are shaking as I’m typing this, like I’m about to give you guys some kind of crippling news, which I guess I sort of am. So, here it is, plain and simple: I’m a girl. She. Her. Woman. Girl. Lady. Chick. Whatever you want to call me, but I’m a girl. It feels so good to finally say that, acknowledge that. I’m only telling you guys, not the public yet, because I’m releasing some new music soon as Patrick, but plain and simple, I. Am. A. Girl. I’m transgender, male to female. Yes, I know most of you have seen my dick, but that doesn’t change that I’m a girl. Just because my body doesn’t agree with me doesn’t make it wrong that I’m a girl. So...when you talk about me, use she. Use her and hers and talk about me like a lady. Use she. She. That feels so good to say, finally have it off my chest, so to speak, and Pete, I swear to god, if you’re making a boob joke right now I will fly to wherever you are and smack you. _

_There are still some things I have to do, like I have to go to counseling and an endocrinologist and see if I can get on hormones and get surgeries and whatnot, but...I just felt like you all should know. I hid it from you for long enough, and it’s something about me you deserve to know. I haven’t chosen a name, by the way, so, if you ever mention me, just use she. I’m sure the people who get this will understand. And, even if you don’t agree with me, with what I’m doing, just support me. Don’t hurt me. Please, just...support me being happy, being myself, being a woman. I love you all, so much. Thank you for putting up with my awkward word vomit about my transness._

_Yours truly,_

_Soon-not-to-be-Unnamed._

 When She released her new music under Patrick, no face on the album art, just the name Patrick Stump, Pete listened to it on repeat. She sounded beautiful, but the deepness of her voice sounded almost sad. Soul Punk. Fitting.

 She told him when She started hormone blockers, and then estrogen. When she got most of her surgeries, not all, of course, and not always what they were. She told him She loved him every day after She first started estrogen. 

 Not long after She told him about how her breasts were doing after their augmentation a few months back, he suggested they all get together, She and the band. Pete expected to be blown off, to maybe get a picture of her middle finger, because he hadn’t seen her face since the hiatus started. He certainly didn’t expect her to say okay.

 So, he waited. Joe and Andy sat on the sofa, their hands folded, unsure of what to expect. She hadn’t even told them her name, assuming She had one. They’d agreed to meet late, so she wouldn’t possibly be recognized. Bronx was long since asleep, it being midnight, and Pete could hear his quiet snores in the room down the hall. It did nothing to help him. She’d agreed midnight, and it was now 12:27. A knock on the door startled him. “That must be her,” Joe muttered, running a hand through his ever-growing fro. “I’ll get it,” Pete said numbly, ancients coursing through his veins. She’d had lots of cosmetic surgeries, and hadn’t shown him her face. What if She’d been botched? What if She was unrecognizable? He shook those thoughts out of his head and opened the door.

     Long, thick, bleached-blonde hair. Blue-green eyes ringed in mascaraed lashes. A round, soft chin.  A swan’s neck. A slender waist, natural-looking breasts, wide hips. High cheekbones, arched brows, a soft smile on her lips. At first, Pete wasn’t sure who this chick was and how she found where he lived, until she opened her mouth and spoke. 

     “Hi, Pete. It’s...it’s me. Patrick. Well, not really, anymore. It’s Courtney, now. Courtney Allie Stump. That’s...that’s my name. Courtney. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I guess I was just...scared,” and Pete pulled Courtney into his chest.

    That voice. That voice he’d had wet dreams about since he first heard it from an awkward little boy in knee socks and argyle. That voice that was now soft and feminine and happy, so happy, the happiest he’d ever heard it and it was from Courtney, not Patrick, and he wanted to sob into her hair, so thick now, not like tha male-pattern baldness she once had, and she smelled like flowers and vanilla, so different from the boy sweat and musk she used to. “I love you, Courtney,” he said, testing the words in his mouth, and they felt so right.  

     “I love you, too, Pete, but my breasts are too sensitive for this right now,” she said, a hint of a smile in her voice. He pulled away and held her at arm’s length, just looking at her. Natural-looking breasts that suited her frame. Soft, round chin, big, bright eyes, fair skin, messy blonde hair, soft pink lips, perfect hips and he was in love all over again.   

     “You’re beautiful,” he said, breathlessly, and Courtney turned pink. “Shut up, let me see the guys,” she said, and pushed past Pete into the living room. 

     Joe and Andy did double takes at the sight of her, almost like they didn’t expect a woman to be standing in front of them when they imagined Courtney coming back. “Joe, Andy, this is Courtney,” Pete said, setting a hand on Courthey’s bare shoulder, left uncovered by her tank top. It was barely a second before they were on her, squishing her between them in an awkward group hug that Pete wanted in on four years ago.

     Courtney squashed her nose into Joe’s armpit and pressed her forehead to Pete’s cheek and pressed her hand to Andy’s chest. “Home,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears.

     “Home,” Pete echoed, followed by Joe’s joking question of, “Can I touch your boobs, Courtney?” and Andy’s soft chuckle of, “No, that’s Pete’s job,” and then two smacks and corresponding “Ows!” From one (1) drummer and one (1) guitarist. “The only thing you’re doing with my breasts is keeping your greedy hands off them, Joe. What would Marie think?” And then the hug was over with Joe sputtering and Pete, Andy, and Courtney laughing their asses off.

     This was the best possible way to bring the band back together, in Pete’s opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Both Hands Up On Her Waistline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete was never much of a dancer, and most of Courtney’s old moves were white-guy in the mid eighties, but now, dancing to this crappy song that he didn’t know on a radio station he didn’t like, with Courtney in his arms, blue-green eyes sparkling, lips spread in a grin so real and happy he wondered what all the other ones were, he couldn’t have been happier.  
> And then Courtney muttered, “You can put your hands lower, you know,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from “Barcelona” by Ed Sheeran, which you should totally go listen to.

     Of course, with all the racket they ended up making, chatting and eating and laughing, Bronx woke up to see what was going on. “Daddy? Whoosat?” He muttered tiredly, rubbing his tiny fist over his tiny eye, stumbling into the room on wobbly little toddler legs. Courtney’s face brightened at the sight of him. “Pete, you never told me how much Bronxadoodle grew up! He’s almost a man now!” She said, even more happiness filling her voice. Bronx, ever the small, innocent child asked, “She m’new mommy?” And Pete immediately was grateful that he didn’t have the skin tone to blush, because if he did, he’d be redder than Courtney’s natural hair. “No, sorry, bubble-boy, she’s just a friend. You can call her Courtney, though. Courtney,” he couldn’t get over the way her name felt in his mouth. “Hi, Coor-nee!” He waved his hand vigorously, a slightly disturbing toddler smile crossing his face.  “Okay, you’ve said hi to Courtney, it’s time for you to get back to bed, Bronx,” and Bronx immediately started both complaining and falling back to sleep as Pete picked him up. He was asleep before he got back to his bed.

     Pete made sure to firmly lock the baby gate this time, even though he knew Bronx would just break it again in the morning. Little fucker was strong. When he came back, Courtney was sitting on the loveseat across from Joe and Andy, her legs crossed at the knee, her arms over her chest. She looked comfortable. She looked happy, a small smile across her face as she chatted with Joe and Andy about music and surgeries and hormones and her solo album.

     “...not sure when I wanna come out as Courtney, seeing as how I just released Patrick stuff, but, I mean, if we ever wanna be Fall Out Boy again, I have to say something. We can’t just have some random chick as the new lead singer and claim Patrick went into real estate or something dumb like that, especially because I still have my face. Even if we were to do something like that, fans would notice how much I look and sound like Patrick,”

     Pete sat down next to (more like on top of) Courtney on the loveseat, his arm around her shoulders (her skin was so much softer now,  so much different from the roughness it used to hold. He wondered if that was the estrogen coursing through her system.) and her head pushed into his chest. His hand grazed her breast and he was very sure he didn’t imagine that little hitch in her breathing. 

     “...Anyway, as I was saying. That is something I think we need to talk about, how to introduce me to the world. We’re going to lose a lot of support and gain a lot of support, so we need to be prepared for the backlash that comes with anyone coming out as transgender. I mean, this band getting back together is something I want to see. I’ve wanted to see this band making music again since I got my hips done, even before, but...I’ve been scared to hear what people say about me. But I’m ready, after having some fun and catching up with you guys and maybe stealing Bronx from Pete,” she curled a little further into his chest. “He’s so big now, Pete. He’s growing up,” she said softly, almost sadly. “I can never have my own kids. You guys are lucky, but that’s a downside of being trans...it’s almost impossible to have your own babies,” her voice was slightly bitter. Pete squeezed her. 

    “I think it’s time we all get to bed,” Andy said suddenly, standing and stretching. Joe followed silently, his curls obscuring his face. Courtney stood and hugged Andy, saying, “Get yourself a girl, Hurley. You need someone to keep you in check,” she then hugged Joe, tangling her fingers in his curls, kissing his cheek and joking, “Go back to your wife and have three dozen children so I can steal them all,” and Joe squeezed her back and Pete felt a surge of protectiveness and had to stop himself from inserting his face between them. “I will,” Joe said, finally letting go. 

     When Joe and Andy left, Courtney stuck her hands in her back pockets and said, “So, I didn’t reserve a hotel,” and Pete swallowed and said, “No, you didn’t,” and then they went back to the bedroom.

     When Courtney took her top off, Pete wasn’t sure what to expect. Self-harm scars? Tattoos? Stitches from surgeries she hadn’t told him about? He certainly didn’t expect miles and miles of smooth, milky skin marred only by a few surgical scars and freckles and a tiny little bar in her navel. When she lay on the bed, he kissed her belly and sucked on the little piercing and made her giggle and swat his head and say, “Oh, my God, Pete, stop it!”

     And he did. He sat up and pecked her lips and then they sat together, side by side, Courtney in a pair of shorts that were way too short to be anything other than pajamas, and she’d untucked, too, Pete could tell., by the tiny bulge in them. (She’d explained the process of tucking in great detail and ever since Pete had had a newfound respect for trans girls and drag queens.) Her bra was slightly too small, her breasts spilling over slightly and Pete wanted to put his hands on that extra flesh and mark it up and pinch it and kiss it. 

     “I guess it’s time to tell you what I’ve had done...I wanted to keep as much of my face as possible, so I didn’t have much done, compared to some girls, on my face. I had a jawbone reduction, to make my jawline softer, brow bone reduction, for my forehead, cheek implants, and I had my Adam’s apple shaved down,” Courtney lifted her chin and yeah, wow, there it was, a tiny little line where they shaved her larynx down. Pete wanted to kiss it. “Obviously I had my breasts done. 325 CCs, silicone implant, mid-profile, under the muscle, I had a breast fold incision...it’s probably better if I show you,” she said, and wow, Pete was not prepared for Courtney to reach behind herself and unhook her bra.

     Her breasts were perky, but not so high as to look fake. They were full and bouncy, but not so round that they looked like balloons. Her nipples were different than they were when she had been Patrick, bigger and darker, closer to rose than baby pink, and they hardened in the cold. Pete could barely tear his eyes away from them when she lifted her arm to shown him the scar. A simple, straight incision with mild scarring. She’d probably been using some kind of product to make them fade faster. “That’s where they put the implant in,” she said softly, tracing the scar with one finger. Pete wanted to suck on that scar and trace it with his fingers, see if it felt different than the rest of her porcelain skin.

     “And my hips. I had a Brazilian butt lift, liposculpture, they took fat from other parts of my body and put it in my hips to give my some more curves. I wanted it to look natural, nothing crazy. I’m not that kind of girl,” a small smile crossed her face as Pete reached out and traces the curve of her waist, all the way down the the gentle rise of her hip. “You can see my scars, where they took the fat out,” she said, pointing to tiny little circular scars along her sides and front. “They took it from there and put it in my hips,” she said again, gently setting Pete’s hand on her bottom. Pete squeezed softly not trying to grope or be sexual, just curious. It felt soft, but firm, like a woman. Like Courtney. Like Courtney.

     Nothing more happened. They didn’t even kiss before going to sleep, just laid down and Pete pulled Courtney into his chest and they fell asleep to the tandem of even breathing.

     Courtney fed Bronx his breakfast the next morning, oatmeal and a few slices of banana. Bronx called her “ _Mommy_!” four or five times, so loud that the exclamation point had to be there. Pete’s heart jolted.and he could already see Courtney teaching Bronx to ride a bike, tie a tie, threatening his first girlfriend with death if she hurt him. 

    They dropped Bronx off at Pete’s parents’ house (they weren’t sure who Courtney was until Pete told them. Peter II was unsure about her, but Dale hugged her and kissed her hair and said she was beautiful. “Keep him in check,” he thought he heard his mother say, but he wasn’t sure because Courtney was dragging him back out to the car, saying she needed coffee.

     Pete took her to a little shop in a secluded area of town where there hopefully wouldn’t be any paps, and paid for her mocha and pain au chocolate, which Pete ended up eating most of. For the most part, it was quiet, Courtney sipping coffee and nibbling her pastry, Pete attempting to play footsie under the table and getting kicked for his efforts a few times, and Courtney calling him an ass when he blew the straw at the waitress, then calling the waitress a bitch when she slipped him her number.

     When they got back to Pete’s place, there was a note taped to the door that said Bronx would be dropped off at eight, which Pete was fine with. Joe and Andy were already inside, Andy probably having jimmied the lock with his magical vegan powers or something like that. (“I just used your spare key, Pete, I know you keep it under the fake dog shit one your lawn,” Andy said later, but Pete was still convinced it was Andy’s magical vegan powers.) 

     After a few minutes of mindless chatter in the living room, Joe finally asked the million-dollar question: “So, uh. Courtney. Can you...can you still sing?” Beside him on the loveseat, Courtney tensed. “I can, I just sound...really different. I can still hit the low notes in our songs, but it’s not as clear. The hormones didn’t change my voice, but I’ve done a lot of vocal training and I haven’t used my lower register in so long...my high notes are super clear, though, and I definitely sound...I sound female,” and fuck, Pete wanted to hear. “Can we hear?” And Pete honestly expected to be slapped for his trouble, maybe for Courtney to pack up and leave and say she never should have come and he’d never see her again. He certainly didn’t expect her to nod her blonde head and say, “Yeah, sure. I’m sure Pete has a guitar laying around that I can use,” and Pete had never stood up to get a guitar faster in his  _life._

     An acoustic guitar, kept tuned to perfection, in Courtney’s capable hands. Her fingers fell into perfect place on the strings and he could see her relax. A small, almost sarcastic smile crossed her face as she said, “Oldie, but a goodie,” and she started playing. It took about three seconds for Pete to recognize the opening chords to “The Take Over, The Break’s Over” and Pete’s heart melted. And when she started singing, he almost fainted because Jesus  _fuck_ it was beautiful, and suddenly he remembered exactly why he fell in love and he wanted to reach over and tug the guitar out of her hands and pull her into his lap, Joe and Andy be damned. 

     When the song was over, Pete’s heart was racing and the only thing that came out of his mouth was a strangled cough. Courtney turned pink, “I know it’s not the best right now, my voice isn’t warmed up, but-mmph!“ Pete cut her off with a rather violent kiss. Courtney pushed him away and said, “Okay, then,” and the issue was settled: Courtney would continue to sing for them. 

     Pete managed to grill something edible for a sort of lunch/dinner thing that consisted mainly of slightly gone-off tofu and red peppers. It wasn’t the worst he’d had, especially after a beer or two, but Andy kept looking at him oddly. 

     After a few more beers and little less sobriety on Pete’s, Courtney’s, and Joe’s parts, Pete brought an amp and a radio and Pete turned on shitty pop music and grabbed Courtney round the waist. His fingers almost touched when he put his hands near her navel. He could feel the cool poke of her belly ring through her thin shirt and, in the softly fading afternoon light, he could see her bra through her shirt. None of that mattered, because Courtney was clumsy and tipsy and  _happy,_ fuck, she was so happy, sunshine smiles and beer breath and big, bright eyes shining golden-green in the light, and Pete wanted to kiss her and tell her he loved her and make her the happiest woman in the world, and even if here, dancing to shitty pop wasn’t the happiest thing in the world Pete swore right then and there he would find it.

     Pete was never much of a dancer, and most of Courtney’s old moves were white-guy in the mid eighties, but now, dancing to this crappy song that he didn’t know on a radio station he didn’t like, with Courtney in his arms, blue-green eyes sparkling, lips spread in a grin so real and happy he wondered what all the other ones were, he couldn’t have been happier.  
And then Courtney muttered, “You can put your hands lower, you know,” and Pete was gone.  

     They chased Joe and Andy out as soon as they got back inside and on the sofa, Pete was on her, hands rudely shoving her shirt up past her ribs and almost ripping it in the process. Courtney frowned at him, pouty lips pointing down as she said, “That was my favorite shirt!” And then she couldn’t say much else because Pete stole her mouth with more bruising kisses. 

     His fingers fumbled with her bra. Her breasts were bigger than Ashlee’s, though not by much, and most of the other girls he’d been through throughout the hiatus (aside from the one relationship he’d had for about three months, Meagan,) had been a bit skanky and hadn’t been wearing a bra when he took them home, so he was out of practice. By the time he got it off, Courtney was sweating and panting from how many times he’d mouthed her nipple through the thin cotton of her non-padded bra and rubbed softly along the front of her jeans. He could feel the gaff* holding her tuck, but oddly enough felt no erection. He pushed a little harder and Courtney let out a small gasp of pain. “No, Pete, stop. That hurts,” and immediately he snatched his hands away. 

     Courtney’s face was beer red, and her eyes were shiny. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. I don’t...I don’t really get hard anymore. My...my penis is a lot smaller than it was, too. Hormones cause genital shrinkage, and it reacts to touch like a clitoris. Even a little bit can be too much. Just...keep that in mind,” and oh, okay, basically just a big clit. Pete knew what to do with clits, and he went back to suckling gently at Courtney’s nipples, just to hear those beautiful little gasps because she was so sensitive there now because of the hormones and new breast implants, and he loved how she tasted there, now.

     When Courtney reached for his shirt, he tugged it off for her and she ran her hands along his torso, pinching rather cruelly at a nipple for a moment and he sort of wished for half a second he hadn’t taken the ring out, and then she moved her hands and scratched at his belly and Pete arched beneath her, hissing. He felt his dick twitch in his jeans. 

     Pete reached for the button on her jeans, and Pete looked at her with his best “Trust me” eyes, and slowly unbottoned and unzipped, revealing plain black panties that were hotter than any sexy, lacy lingirie he’d ever seen before. Pete reached behind her and set his hands on her rump, squeezing softly and Courtney made a little gasping sound, reaching down to undo his pants and-

     The doorbell rang.

     Courtney fell off his lap, her eyes wide with fear and then humor, her chest heaving with laughter already. “Your kid’s cockblocking you!”and Pete rushed to get his shirt back on and make it to the door before his parents figured out what was going on. 

     His parents both raised an eyebrow at his condition. He knew he had sex hair, and his face was flushed and not even a blind man could miss the bulge in his jeans, but it couldn’t be that bad. He went on thinking that until Bronx skipped inside and Dale whispered in his ear, “Pete, your shirt’s inside out and backwards, and your pants at unzipped. Try to plan ahead next time,” and Pete was left hanging with his face, possibly for the first time in his life, bright red, and his shirt both inside out and backwards. 

     He fixed his clothes and tucked Bronx into bed, feeling strange himself. When he got to the bedroom, Courtney was there, in pink pajama shorts even shorter than the ones yesterday. No panties, he realized. His very confused dick gave a twitch. When she kissed him on he cheek, and said, “Goodnight, Pete,” he felt his heart flutter.

     For the first time in what felt like centuries, Pete fell asleep happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked! Also, follow me on tumblr, even though our nipples have been censored: @jaytylera-needgoodgayshit.  
> *Gaff: undergarment used by drag queens and pre-op/non-op trans women to hold their tuck. Looks sort of like a weird thong with some padding in the front. Other times, with very tight clothing, athletic tape/duct tape (DONT USE DUCT TAPE, IT CAN SERIOUSLY HURT YOU IF YOU USE THIS TO HOLD YOUR TUCK) is often used.


	3. I Wanna Scream I Love You From The Top Of My Lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you, Pete,” Courtney’s words were almost indecipherable. Almost. Pete’s heart did a little flappy thing in his chest as he rushed to say back, “I love you, I love you I love you and he leaned over the table to kiss her, one hand on the table and the other resting just barely below her breast.  
> In hindsight, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from “The (Shipped) Gold Standard” by Fall Out Boy.

 A     Waking up to a good-looking girl giving him head was one of the things Pete missed about Ashlee. Waking up to Courtney giving him head, well, if you asked him about Ashlee in that moment, he would have said,  _Ashlee who?_ Because apparently he must have forgotten what that mouth looked like stretched around his cock.

     Courtney’s blue-green eyes were almost black, looking up at him through golden lashes, somewhere between innocent and seductive and Pete wasn’t sure which was hotter. She pulled back up and sucked at the tip, tonguing lightly at the slit and making Pete arch and suppress a groan. She slid back down, doing something fucking  _amazing_ with her tongue and driving him insane. She buried her nose in the coarse hair near the base and looked up at him best she could, small tears flooding her eyes as sh quickly pulled back up, coughing for a moment. Pete was about to ask how she was doing and then she went to lick lightly at his balls, making him buck up and a drop of precut slide down his cock. “Court...” he said, unable to think enough to say both syllables of her name. He felt her laugh softly against him, and he felt slightly silly, until she wrapped her hand around his aching cock, slick with her own saliva and his precum.

     She jerked slowly, loosely, running her thumb along the blood-dark head, tracing the vein along the underside and, fuck, how did she remember that was a sensitive spot for him when he couldn’t even remember? “Please...” he muttered, unaware of what he was asking for until she did it: she sucked one of her fingers into her mouth and looked at him, asking permission and he breathed out, “Fuck, yes,” and she took the digit out of her mouth and pressed it into him. Pete was never one to bottom all that much, but he could definitely take this, really fuckinng loved it, actually, and now that Courtney was a girl it was that much hotter and fuck, he really can’t take this can he, been too fucking long and he came in her hand with a muffled shout. 

     Courtney slowly pulled her finger out and removed her hand from his spent cock. For a moment, she just sat there, before deciding to get off the bed and wipe herself and Pete off with tissues. As she threw the tissues away, Pete asked, “Do you, uh...want me to return the favor?” He saw her tense. “You don’t have to. You really don’t,” her voice sounded raw. Lucky she didn’t have to sing. He grabbed her and took a moment to just look at her. A horrible case of bedhead, swollen red lips, wide, still-dilated eyes. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. Besides, if I’m not reading this totally wrong and you just felt like blowing me for no reason this morning,” that got a small smile out of her and he felt his heart swell. “It’s gonna happen sooner or later. No time like the present, right?” Pete asked, and Courtney shivered softly under his hand. “Okay,” She said, and laid back on the bed.

     Pete had never been with a trans woman before, as far as he was aware. There were some drunken nights when he was young, very young, and he couldn’t remember them all that well, but he was fairly sure. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he slipped Courtney’s tiny pink sleep shorts off, other than no panties, but...it looked...shrunken. Not shriveled, just a lot smaller than it was, and even before Patrick wasn’t exactly big. He could almost feel when Courtney blushed. “Don’t state at it! It’s a source of dysphoria for me, and it’s...it’s embarrassing,” and his eyes snapped up. Her face was flushed and her eyes were slightly hooded. Fuck, if she wasn’t beautiful. 

     “So...what do I do?” He asked dumbly, gently rubbing along her hip. “Just...I don’t know...kind of rub it? Like a clit, it reacts like a clit. Careful if you...if you touch my...you know, my balls. They either can’t feel anything or are more sensitive than anything on my body, depending on the day so...just be very careful,” her words were stuttered and slow, embarrassed and mildly uncomfortable. He almost felt bad. “And, like I said, it doesn’t really...get hard. It’ll sort of go, um...” she trailed off, flushing harder. “It sort of goes halfway up? It’s hard for me to really...get it up. And when I cum, there’s not much there,” and with a gasp, she was done talking about her body. “Just...touch me,” 

     Slowly, he gently set his hand on it, rubbing softly with his thumb. It reacted strangely, not anything like his own, and he supposed it was because of the lack of testosterone in her system. It only sort of twitched and Courtney purred out, “Yeah...yeah, like that,” and Pete felt a swell of pride as he rubbed a little harder, a little faster, and Courtney’s breathing sped up. “Fuuuuck...” she groaned softly, her head falling back and her back arching. “That’s...that’s good,”

     And that’s...sort of how most of it went, Pete gently rubbing her, her telling him, “Yeah, like that,” or “No, that’s too hard, be gentle,” and Courtney’s soft moans, until she asked quietly, “Can you use your mouth?” And Pete cursed himsefnfor not being young enough to get hard again right then and there, because  _fuck yes,_ he will use his mouth.

     Just as she said, she’s only half-hard, and it sort of just sits there, not doing much. Very gently, he starts to lick, sucking softly every once in a while and Courtney seems to love it, keeping sure to muffle her moans and only bucking her hips slightly. Every once in a while, he might get a little drop of precum, which he would lap up with enthusiasm.   And then he went a little lower, asking permission silently and when she shuddered out a, “God, yes,  _Pete,”_ he immediately dove in, spreading her cheeks and licking at her hole.

     She immediately relaxed around his tongue and spread her legs a little wider while he slurped and sucked. He remembered, when she was younger, she was always tight and tense and for a moment he got jealous, wondered if she’d been with anyone else, but quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He needed to focus on the task at hand, and he prides himself at being good at this. He was not about to let Courtney down

     He carefully slipped a finger inside her, and she tightened beautiful around him, moaning softly and saying, “Yeah, that’s...that’s good, Pete, keep doing that,” and soon after, he added another, her hole stick with saliva. He licked around his fingers, moving his fingers gently over that little bump he’d come to love, both in his own body and others’ bodies. He already loved it in Courtney’s because she had to shove a pillow over her face to not moan and then said, “Holy shit, nobody’s...nobody’s done it like that before,” and Pete preened. He knew he was good at this.

     He wasn’t expecting it when Courtney came, she bucked her hips up once, twice, and that was it, she came. Nothing much came out, just a little bit of murky liquid that Pete sort of wanted to taste, but he didn’t want to freak Courtney out.

     After she cleaned herself up with tissues, she said, “We both need a shower,” and for the second time Pete cursed being in his thirties.

     The shower was definitely big enough for the two of them, and he got to wash Courtney’s back, which gave him a lovely view of her ass. He only managed to give it a lightly little slap once, which resulted in Courtney laughing and kissing him, which resultes in him teasing her breasts, which resulted in a rather steamy makeout session until the water started running cold and they had to step out.

     Her outfit was anything but modest, but he couldn’t blame her, summer in L.A. was hell. Denim shorts that did  _nothing_ to cover her ass, a t-shirt that showed off her cute belly ring, and a messy ponytail. She looked like a girl that was so far out of Pete’s league looks-wise that he shouldn’t even know her name. Come to think of it, she sort of was, even though if he said that out loud she’d probably hit him and then show him how gorgeous she thought he was. He didn’t want to push it though. Courtney was too special for shit like that. 

     As soon as Courtney was done taking her pills, Bronx wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Daddy? M’hungry...” he mumbled, running into Pete’s legs and resting his head on Pete’s thighs. “Hungry? Well, what do you want, buddy?” He picked Bronx up from where he was about to fall asleep on Pete’s legs and said, “You’re getting heavy, Bronx. Almost can’t pick you up anymore!” It was true. Bronx was already almost four, and thirty-two pounds. Pete felt his heart jerk slightly. He was growing up. A soft, “Hi, Coor-nee,” caught his attention and his head jerked towards Courtney, who was walking over and gently touching Bronx’s hands. “Hi, Bronxy,” she said, her voice quiet. “What do you want for breakfast, bud? I’ll make it, so your daddy doesn’t have to. He’s a bit tired this morning, right, Pete?” A ghost of a smile crossed her face and Pete smirked back at her. “Pancake?” Bronx asked hopefully. “Okay, I’ll make you pancakes,” Courtney said, immediately going to dig through the pantry.

     Pete Wentz wasn’t exactly known for his organizational skills, so it took far longer than necessary for her to find the pancake mix. (“Pete, why the freak is the pancake mix in the fridge?”     “I thought it was like, premade pancake batter!”     “You’re in your thirties, Pete, you should know that’s not how that works.”) It wasn’t long, however, before the pancakes were done and Courtney cut Bronx’s up for him and Bronx drenched them in syrup. “Coffee, Pete?” She asked, and Pete couldn’t help but think the word  _housewife,_ when she started the coffeemaker. “You know I have a raging caffeine addiction,” he said, and she replied with, “So decaf,” and he smiled as he watched his son eat sticky pancakes with stickier fingers.

     “I feel like I should tell you to lay off the sugar, but that’s a little too concerned wife. How about you add that sugary sh...” she glanced at Bronx, who was drawing designs in the syrup on his plate, “stuff. I definitely said stuff and nothing else at all, sugary stuff to your coffee so I can hear your arteries close when I rest my head on your shoulder at night,” she set his mug in front of him and took her own seat next to him, watching Bronx make little pancake dinosaurs using syrup as glue and then stuffing them into his mouth. “I never thought I could enjoy being domestic, watching a kid eat pancakes so badly he’s going to need a bath after. Then I remember touring and it makes me kind of miss being on the road, in a way, me and Joe and Andy and you and that one time you brought Hemmy, Rest In Peace, and it makes me wonder how amazing it would be to tour as me and not Patrick, because I stopped being Patrick so long ago, and...I wanna be known as me. Courtney. Lead singer of Fall Out Boy. It’s going to be great, Pete, getting back on the road and just...” she rested her head on Pete’s shoulder, eyes on Bronx, hands around her coffee mug, a smile on her lips, “Bwtter than it ever was before,” and Pete fell a little deeper in love.

     A loud knock at the door startled them. “Shoot,” Pete said, standing and wiping the syrup from Bronx’s face. “It’s Ash’s weekend, she’s got Bronx. Shoot, shoot, shoot,” and he’s grabbing Bronx from the chair and grabbing the tiny backpack from the floor, probably left from the last time Bronx went to Ashlee’s, and stopped for a moment, looking back at Courtney. “Do you wanna...do you maybe wanna see Ash again?” And she nodded, shaky, and stood, following him. 

     Ash stood at the door, her arms already out for her son. “Hey, Bronxy-boy! Daddy take good care of you while I was gone? Or do I have to smack him?” She asked playfully, but Pete was pretty sure she might smack him if she even thought he mistreated Bronx. “Uh-huh! It was really fun! And I met Coor-nee!” He still seemed to have difficulty with the “T” Courtney’s name, but Ashlee’s eyebrow went for her hairline. “Who’s Courtney?” 

     “I’m...Courtney,” a voice said, making Pete jump. “Oh my god, you scared me. Ash, this...this is Courtney,” he could feel her shaking under his touch. She was probably terrified. “Well, nice to meet you, Courtney. I’m Ashlee,” Pete swallowed slightly. He and Ash were still on decent terms, but he could already tell she was distrustful of Courtney. She had no idea who this chick was. “Uh...” Courtney said, scratching the back of her neck and tugging at a few ginger baby hairs where her roots were starting to come back in. “Actually...I know who you are. And not just from Pete and Bronx, but we’ve...met. On more than one occasion,” Ashlee’s face screwed up in confusion and Pete’s heart pounds out a samba against his ribs. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought her out here, maybe he shouldn’t have-

     “I’ll give you a hint. I was Pete’s best man,” and he watched realization dawn on Ashlee’s face. She didn’t look disgusted, or confused, just...awed. “That’s...Patrick?” She asked, not rudely, not upset that this was the person he cheated on her with, just curious. “Yeah...but she’s Courtney, now,” and Pete’s not prepared for when Ashlee hands Bronx back to him and hugs Courtney, her hands buried in blonde hair. “I’m...oh my god, I’m speechless. I’m so happy for you! And...and Courtney?” She asked, pulling away. “Make sure he stays sane, yeah?” And he hears Courtney laugh and he wants to record it and listen to it over and over until he dies and then reincarnate himself just to listen to it more. “I’ll do my best,” and then Ashlee’s gone, grabbing Bronx from his arms and driving off. “She reacted well,” Courtney said, turning to Pete with an expression of relief.

     They had the day to themselves, and Pete suggested they go on a date later that night and Courtney agreed, pushing off of Pete to go get ready because it was already six-thirty and they agreed about eight would be good. 

     Pete was not prepared for how amazing Courtney looked in something a little nicer. Nothing insane or super fancy, just a simple, sleeveless black dress and some makeup and her hair in a braid over her shoulder and she looked so stunning he actually stared with his mouth open for a moment until she hit his chest and said, “Come on, let’s go,” and Pete sort of just followed like a puppy dog. 

     They got some odd looks as they entered the restaurant, almost like people weren’t expecting anyone that looked like either of them to show up. Maybe someone recognized him, but at that moment he didn’t care. He was with Courtney.

     A glass or two of wine later, Courtney was slightly tipsy and Pete wasn’t much better. The food was great, but he couldn’t stop staring at the flush the alcohol brought to Courtney’s porcelain skin. “Stop staring, Pete, it’s rude!” She said, but she suppressed a giggle anyway. 

     After they’d eaten, they just sat and looked at each other for a moment, before...

     “I love you, Pete,” Courtney’s words were almost indecipherable. Almost. Pete’s heart did a little flappy thing in his chest as he rushed to say back, “I love you, I love you I love you and he leaned over the table to kiss her, one hand on the table and the other resting just barely below the swell of her breast.

     In hindsight, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

     They sort of half-dragged each other back home, not bothering getting a cab, Courtney having taken off her kitten heels and carrying them in her hand as a joke, Pete letting her wrap his tie around his head and laugh like an idiot at him. His heart felt sated and he was more than a little drunk from the wine and he kind of wanted to roll around naked with her in bed until they fell asleep and be loud and enthusiastic and have hot, dirty, screaming sex with Courtney because now they could.

     It wasn’t a long walk by any means, so neither of them were sweaty when they got back inside and Pete got his wish, rolling around in bed, slowly stripping each other of various clothing items (he cursed at Courtney’s gaff until she just said, “Just rip it, I have others,” and he tore the fabric off her,) and they fell asleep with Pete’s head on Courtney’s breasts and her hands tangling in his hair and saying, “I love you,” every few minutes until it stopped sounding like words.

     When Pete woke, it wasn’t to Courtney going down on him, but rather Courtney on her phone, a worried expression on his face. “You might wanna see this, Pete,” she said, and when he saw, his heart sank. Fuck. No. This...this couldn’t happen. This couldn’t happen!

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Follow me on tumblr- @jaytylera-needgoodgayshit.


	4. You Call That Ass Your Own, We Call That Silicone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the online, shitty news articles were titles things like, “Fall Out Boy Bassist Pete Wentz’s New Hot Piece Of A**?!” And “We Knew Pete Liked Blondes, But Take A Look at Her!” And, rather scarily, “Pete Wentz’s New Ladyfriend Looks Just Like Former Stage-Flame, Patrick Stump!” And, weirdest of all, “Wentz’s New Babymama ?!” Pete’s heart thumped out of his chest and he almost threw up. “Pete?” Courtney asked, setting her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know,” Pete replied, looking at her with scared eyes. “I don’t know,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from “Sippy Cup” by Melanie Martinez, which you should totally go listen to. Also, sorry it’s taken me so long, I’ve been extremely ill and spent a lot of time in hospital recovering. Pneumonia is a bitch wen you live in a drafty dorm.

       When Pete woke up that morning, he expected to see Courtney sleeping like the angel she was, or maybe if he was lucky, with her full, pink lips wrapped around his cock like the day before. He didn’t expect her to be sitting up, glasses and worried expression on her face, staring at her laptop. “Court? Wazzwron?” He asked groggily, blinking the last traces of sleep from his eyes and yawning. “We were seen, Pete. No paps or anything, but ... a rogue fan recognized you at the restaurant that apparently followed us. There’s pictures, Pete, and they can tell it’s you...and some of them notice I look like Patrick,” and Pete wasn’t tired anymore.

     “Look at this. They’re...pictures of us, and...I’m reading comments...they’re saying my ass looks fake, I look like a slut, I’m probably just with you for money...I...” And she shut her mouth and handed him the laptop. He almost got sick when he saw what was on it.

    All the online, shitty news articles were titles things like, “Fall Out Boy Bassist Pete Wentz’s New Hot Piece Of A**?!” And “We Knew Pete Liked Blondes, But Take A Look at Her!” And, rather scarily, “Pete Wentz’s New Ladyfriend Looks Just Like Former Stage-Flame, Patrick Stump!” And, weirdest of all, “Wentz’s New Babymama?!” Pete’s heart thumped out of his chest and he almost threw up. “Pete?” Courtney asked, setting her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know,” Pete replied, looking at her with scared eyes. “I don’t know,”

     Courtney sat beside him and clicked on the article that mentioned Courtney looking like Patrick. The pictures were decent at best, obviously taken with a cell phone, but Pete’s face was recognizable to anyone who payed attention for a moment, and Courtney looked even more like...like Patrick on camera. If they didn’t know who she was, they might say she was his sister. They’d caught their kiss in the restaurant, Pete’s hand almost on her breast,and the fan had followed them out and caught their lazy kisses under streetlights and Pete’s hands on her ass and Courtney dragging Pete by the tie around his head and...they’d followed him to his house and caught the way he’d carried her inside. 

     “I couldn’t bring myself to read the article...I didn’t want to know what they’d say about me and you...” and Pete scrolled down. The article was from some alternative news company, so only people who were interested in them would see it, but still, that was a lot of people. He steeped himself and started reading.

 

_Pete’s New Girlfriend Has Our Jaws Dropped! And For More Than One Reason!_

_Frontman of currently “on break” band Fall Out Boy Pete Wentz has always had a rough time with relationships. Between his many flings in his early days and his relationships with Jeanae White and Ashlee Simpson, mother to his son, Bronx, for a while we wondered if he’d ever have another relationship, but from these pictures sent from an anonymous source, we dare say he’s found another flame! And she looks just like Fall Out Boy’s golden-voiced lead singer, Patrick._

_Just looking at them in these pictures and seeing how they look at each other says they’re in love, but why is Pete with her? Yes, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, curvy and blonde with a killer smile, but she’s short, and, shall we say, a little chunky? We can’t say much, but we wonder why someone like him is with someone like her. She looks so much like Patrick Stump it’s almost scary, and, we’re not sure, but we think she’s had work done, too. Nothing against plastic surgery, but Pete has always seemed to prefer natural beauties. So why her?_

_Some people from anonymous sources think she’s a gold digger, and may have gotten some surgeries to look more like Stump and worm her way into Pete’s heart, or maybe she’s a relative of his. With how quiet Patrick has been as of late, it’s hard to say, but there are already about a million opinions and it’s only been a few hours since the pics dropped. Let us know what you think!_

 “They think you’re a gold digger. At least they blurred out my address, so we won’t be swamped with fans...” but Pete’s words faltered when he saw Courtney’s face. She was _pissed,_  possibly angrier than he’d ever seen her before, and tears filled her eyes. “They think I’m with you...for money? Is that whatever they think when they see a blonde girl with a rich guy? God, I just want to...Agh!” She screamed, burying her face into the pillow. “That’s a part of being a woman I wasn’t prepared for, the objectification. The lack of trust with money and people with it. People making baseless assumptions. It hurts, you know?” Pete can hear the tears in her voice. “We need to call Joe and Andy. Hopefully one of them will know what to do,” she said, and Pete really wasn’t one to argue.

     Courtney stared at her cup of black coffee, not drinking it, not saying anything, and not touching the orange Pete grabbed from the fridge for her. Pete didn’t fare much better, only sipping his coffee and nibbling at burnt toast with no butter or jam. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it down. He was glad Bronx wasn’t here for this; the poor kid would probably just cry about his Daddy and Courtney hurting. He’d taken to her so quickly it was almost scary.

     When Joe and Andy arrived, Joe a little after Andy, it was obvious that they had seen the pictures online. “How could you two be so stupid?” Andy asked bluntly, taking a seat as Joe silently helped himself to some coffee. “We didn’t exactly know there’d be some random fan there with a phone camera. We didn’t know they’d follow us home. We didn’t know that our privacy would be invaded,” Courtney snapped the last words, her knuckles going so white on the handle of the coffee mug that Pete worried it would snap off. 

     “Well, what do we do about it?” Joe finally spoke up. “The only thing I could think of would be for Pete to release a statement saying Courtney’s not with you for any of that. Don’t...out her, of course, but just say that you and Courtney have been together for some time now, and wanted to keep it out of the media for whatever reason. Just make something up that isn’t too bullshit, and whenever Courtney’s ready, she’ll come out and we can explain the bullshit,” and Pete was never more glad that he had managed to drag Andy into the band with him.

     He sent out the “statement” as Andy called it on Twitter, mostly just saying Courtney’s name and saying no, she’s not a gold digger, they’ve been together for over a year, now and a bunch of other lies Pete kind of felt bad about, but couldn’t bring himself to not tell. Anything and everything to keep Courtney safe and happy.

     Later that day, Pete checked out the comments on his latest twitter update. Most of the comments were, “OMG Courtney is so pretty ur so lucky Pete!” And things along those lines, some were, “No way you’ve been dating that long, but still happy for you,” others were general hate and the occasional comment of “Faglord!” Or something equally as immature and hateful, and, something that would probably hurt Courtney more than it hurt Pete, “Courtney is a trashy girl’s name and her ass looks fake and her tits are silicone balloons.” Pete remembered Courtney telling him about her silicone breast implants and his heart sank. It was an insult, but part of it was true. 

     Just because of that comment, later that night, because they could, because there wasn’f any risk of wandering toddlers following them and asking questions, he didn’t lock the door behind him when he went into his room and found Courtney in just a pair of pajama shorts, nothing else, not even a bra, and she said, “Maybe take our minds off thingw?” And Pete didn’t hesitate in catching her lips in a searing kiss.

     His hands shot to her breasts, her breasts that looked and felt and tasted so real, so real that any thoughts of silicone were gone from his head as he suckled on Courtney’s nipples and made her moan so loudly that it was probably fake but still one of the hottest things Pete had ever heard.

     When he got her shorts off, he didn’t give much attention to her cock, just a gentle lick and then he was between her cheeks, letting her push his head down and eating her like he was starving. 

     It took him a while to find the lube and condoms hidden deep within the nightstand away from curious little hands that snuck into Pete’s room at night, courtesy of a broken baby gate, but when he found them, he wasted no time in tearing open the little foil packet and rolling the condom on and slowly fingering Courtney open, watching her reactions to see what had changed. He had to press a hand to his cock a few times to stop himself from cumming just from Courtney’s beautiful noises.

     When he finally slid inside her, everything felt while again. Courtney was with him again, in every possible way. She was hot and tight and slick with lube and she was wet, leaking a weak stream of precum over the apex of her legs while she moaned, enthusiastic and loud and mildly pornographic, enough that it was probably slightly fake, but the reactions she was giving him were anything but. 

     With some maneuvering, he was able to suck on her breasts, taking her nipple into his mouth and nipping a little too hard to be completely pleasant, but neither Pete nor Courtney cared because at that moment she squeezed around him and came, milking the orgasm out of Pete as she repeated clenched. Pete barely had the energy to safely dispose of the condom, again, away from little hands that aren’t scared to dig through gross garbage to find “buried treasure.”

     When he came back, Courtney hadn’t bothered getting back into her sleep shorts, simply crawling under the covers naked and Pete sort of wanted round two because of that alone. They arranged themselves so that Courtney’s head was resting on Pete’s chest and Pete’s arm was around Courtney’s shoulders. “What’ll we do if they find out?” Pete kissed her forehead, squeezing her softly. “We’ll figure it out. I love you, Courtney,”

     “I love you, too, Pete,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Epilogue: Forever, My Lost Boy, I Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pete, you’re not the only one that’s messed up. We’ve all had our moments, you know? And we all had our reasons...”  
> Pete can feel Courtney shaking as she cries, digging her fists into his shirt and Pete holds her and lets her cry on him, lets her be Oficially Not Okay, lets her tell her about the times she felt lost and suddenly he feels like he needs to go and find her so they can be lost together. After all, being lost is always better when you’ve got someone to be lost with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from “Lost Boy” by Ruth B, which y’all should totally go listen to.

I’m     When Bronx came back from Ashlee, Pete wasn’t expecting him to ask, “Daddy? Is Courtney a boy?” Pete spit his coffee halfway across the living room. He hardly noticed that Bronx could now successfully say the “T” in her name. “Of course not! Why would you think that?” He said a little too quickly, before running into the kitchen both for paper towels and to avoid further questioning from a four-year-old. He only accomplished one of those things. 

     “Cause Mommy called her Patrick. I ‘member Patrick. He sang really good,” Bronx cocked his little head. “He looked just like Courtney,” and Pete knew he was fucked. 

     “Well...” He thought of the best way to explain it to a toddler without scarring him for life. “See, Courtney was born Patrick. She used to be Patrick, but now she’s not. She’s a girl, not a boy. She was born with boy parts, and a boy name, but she couldn’t be a boy. It hurt her, being a boy, so now she’s a girl. Just because she has boy parts doesn’t mean she’s a boy, and don’t let what anyone else says change that,” and before Bronx could ask any questions whose answers could scar him for life, Courtney stumbled in, wearing one of Pete’s shirts that reached almost mid-thigh (not only had she lost almost forty pounds, but two inches and she was tiny and adorable) and a pair of fuzzy socks on her tiny feet. “Gimme...” she muttered tiredly, pushing at her crooked glasses and reaching for Bronx.

     Bronx jumped into her arms and Courtney grunted slightly. “Almost too heavy for me, buddy. You’re growing up,”

     Breakfast was quiet. Pete drank coffee and ate the toast Courtney Almaden’s him and Bronx didn’t throw a tantrum about having to eat Cheerios, which was always a plus, and Courtney ate her grapefruit while calmly scrolling through her phone.

     Until Pete got a call. And Courtney got a call. From PR. And their management. For Fall Out Boy. Because of the pictures that had leaked. 

     Apparently, they’d blown up even more over the past day, and more and more people noticed Courtney’s resemblance to Patrick. Someone even noticed the scar along her neck and said, “Usually only people who’ve had their larynx shaved have scars like that but idk”

     They dropped Bronx off at his grandparents’ and drove to meet their managers as quickly as they could. “So. You two. Who’d’ve thought?” He asked, running a hand down his face. “Courtney, you’ve got no choice. More and more people are noticing how quiet you’ve been, and your resemblance to...you. You’ll have to come clean. We’ll stick with you through the backlash and make sure you’re safe, but...” Pete racked his brain for anything. “I’ve been writing like crazy. We could announce an album to soften the blow. Come off hiatus. Come back strong,” the whole room tensed. “Pete, I don’t know...” Courtney said, trailing off before saying, “I guess that’s the best way. I’ll write something up, and they’ll probably want photos of us and Bronx and whatnot, but...we’ll do it,” and that was settled.

      _Dear everyone who has loved and supported us through everything.           I guess it’s time to say why we went on hiatus. I needed time, I guess. To get away from touring? Yes. To take a mental and physical break? Yes. To get away from Pete’s insanity: Oh, absolutely yes. But also to figure myself out, find who I really am. So, today, I come to you as Miss Courtney Allie Stump instead of Patrick. I haven’t been Patrick in so long, it feels strange calling myself by that name. I’ve been quiet because I wasn’t ready to show myself yet, but after those pictures with Pete, I guess I have no choice. So, yes, I am transgender. Yes, I am transitioning. Yes, I am a woman , and I have never been happier. I’m strong and confident and I finally feel right with myself. So, say all you want. It won’t hurt me anymore. I’m not the weak little boy you can push around anymore, but I’m a strong, confident woman. So, signing off, yours truly,_

_Courtney Allie Stump._

    The fans went nuts, after that and especially after news of a new album coming soon. They demanded pictures and got them, a few of Pete and Courtney, a few of just Courtney, a few of them and Bronx, because apparently Pete has fantastic taste in trans singers with lips to die for.

     One night, as they were reading comments, Courtney spilled her guts. Someone had commented, “Patrick still looks like a man. You can see his dick-bulge and his beard. Fucking gross.” Her eyes welled up with tears and she told Pete, “I always get scared when someone says that, because if they’re right, then I’m not safe, I’m not passing. There was one night...about nine months on hormones, I thought I looked fantastic. I looked like a girl. I ordered some food, confident, feeling sexy and like a girl enough that I could open the door without panicking. The delivery kid...he looked all of seventeen. He called me sir. I locked the door in his face and tried to kill myself. Luckily, he didn’t leave and managed to kick the door down and call the polide. I don’t know what happened, I just...snapped. I figured if he still saw me as a guy, then everyone would always see me as a guy. It made me feel unsafe, like I might lose my mind because I could never be a girl...”

     And Pete held her while she cried, cried, cried herself to sleep. 

     They released the album. The people that stuck with them, a shocking number, loved Courtney’s new look and her new voice almost as much as they loved her and Pete’s relationship. Every time they posted a picture, almost everyone was congratulating them on “getting their heads out of their asses”, Joe and Andy included. 

     And, Pete...Pete with his divorce, his suicide attempt, his mental disorders, his young son, couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, even though the ending was quite shitty. I’m still kind of battling pneumonia, but I figure a shifty ending is better than no ending, plus I’ve got something new in the works that I hope you all really like!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed.


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